


Sometimes Words Aren't Enough

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Champions League, FC Barcelona, M/M, Manchester City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He and Leo have always been very cordial. Their relationship is as good as one that a goalie and a forward from an opposing team can have. Joe respects Leo's immense ability, as well as the fact that Leo never intentionally tries to hurt him when they play. He wishes he could say the same for some of the other strikers he's up against. And Leo has always been very complimentary of Joe's skills, both in the little moments after the game when they exchange pleasantries, as well as when he's interviewed.</p>
<p>But that little bit of small talk doesn't explain why Leo's here.</p>
<p>In his hotel room.</p>
<p>Alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written after the Champions League match between Manchester City and Barcelona which took place on March 18, 2015. Ivan Rakitić scored off a Lionel Messi assist for Barcelona to win the game 1-0. With a 3-1 aggregate result, Barcelona advanced through to the quarter finals. Manchester City's Joe Hart had 10 saves against Barcelona's blistering attack, and many agreed that without Hart's incredible performance, Manchester City would have been totally humiliated.

 

When Joe hears the knock on his hotel room door, he thinks about ignoring it. He can't imagine what else anyone could have to say about the game tonight. For a moment he rests his forehead on the door, wondering if the person will go away. But then the knock comes again. He sighs and looks through the peep hole.

It's Sergio. His big head is blocking the hole as he tries to peer back at Joe.

Joe almost tells the striker to go away, but he can't find it in him to do so. He knows Sergio is just as devastated about losing, though he doesn't know why the other man is knocking on his door at one in the morning. He opens the door and is confused as he realizes Sergio is not alone.

Leo Messi is standing next to his fellow Argentine, utterly recognizable despite a hood pulled up over his head. The two men are whispering back and forth to each other, with Sergio getting heatedly excited as Leo rolls his eyes. Joe is unable to figure out what they're talking about, and once again wishes he had a better grip on the Spanish language.

Sergio finally ceases whispering, raking a hand through his hair and turning to Joe. He takes in Joe's bleary eyes and weary smile. "Leo wants to visit with you," he says slowly in English. "He, uh, ask me where you stay. But I tell him not a good time, yes?"

Joe leans against the door. "Can he make it quick?" He rubs his forehead. "I was just about to get in bed."

Sergio and Leo both laugh, and Joe has no idea what's so funny. "Quick?" Sergio asks, exchanging an amused look with Leo. "No, no is quick."

At Sergio's side, Leo gestures toward Joe's room. "Tonight, yes?" Leo says softly, flicking his eyes up at Joe. There's something in his gaze that Joe doesn't recognize--some glint that's entirely different from Leo's usual stare. Leo looks around the hallway and shifts his weight before staring back at the keeper. "Yes?" he repeats when Joe hesitates.

"Leo," says Sergio, putting his arm around Leo and beginning to whisper again. This time the words are slow, and Sergio says them calmly into Leo's ear as Leo sags against him. Joe catches his name and tired and game, and the word no over and over, but other then that he still remains clueless.

Leo retorts something and looks away, as Sergio pats his head.

"Another time," Sergio says in English to Joe, his lips curled up as if he's amused by the situation. Next to him Leo's dark eyes meet Joe's. The gaze is intense again, and Joe finds himself opening his mouth before he can stop himself.

"Wait, no it's okay." He looks between the two Argentines. "It's fine. Come in."

But it's only Leo who steps forward and follows him inside.

"Um, you're not coming, Sergio?" Joe looks at Sergio who's still standing in the hallway. Joe's not really sure how this is going to work without Sergio to interpret between him and Leo.

Sergio smiles. "No, no, I'll see you tomorrow." He reaches out and kisses Leo on the cheek, murmuring something, before waving to Joe. "Good night."

Joe shuts the door, still very confused.

He looks over at Leo who smiles at him and walks past Joe to go sit over on the bed. He bounces slightly on the mattress, pulling his hood down and running a hand through his hair to fix any wayward strands. Then he unzips his sweatshirt, revealing a form fitting, nearly translucent undershirt underneath. He even kicks his shoes off, revealing very pale bare feet, though the right one appears to be heavily taped up.

He looks so ordinary--one would never know that he's the best footballer in the world. But he also looks utterly relaxed, as if he belongs there.

In contrast, Joe stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Even though it's his room.

He and Leo have always been very cordial. Their relationship is as good as one that a goalie and a forward from an opposing team can have. Joe respects Leo's immense ability, as well as the fact that Leo never intentionally tries to hurt him when they play. He wishes he could say the same for some of the other strikers he's up against. And Leo has always been very complimentary of Joe's skills, both in the little moments after the game when they exchange pleasantries, as well as when he's interviewed.

But that little bit of small talk doesn't explain why Leo's here.

In his hotel room.

Alone.

He looks over at Leo, about to finally ask once and for all, but the words die in his throat. Leo's intently studying him, dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Umm," Joe ends up saying, half wishing he could offer Leo a cup of tea. And really it's not his fault.

He's painfully British.

Leo gets off the bed slowly, and walks over to Joe. It's almost threatening, except Leo barely comes up to Joe's shoulder.

"You very good today," Leo says thickly, looking up at Joe. "Very good," he repeats, rolling his r slightly. "Make many saves. Against us." He blinks slowly. "Against me." He smiles, his lips curling in amusement, much like they had in the hallway.

Joe smiles a bit. "Thanks, Leo. You had a very good game too, but I don't understand why..."

Leo cuts him off. "Why I here, yes?" He bites his lip and takes a step closer to Joe, until Joe can feel the heat from the other man's body. "The game. You, make me feel," he shakes his head and licks his lips. "How you say, hmmmm?" He tilts his head back and to the side, thinking.

Joe opens his mouth to suggest something, but is caught by Leo's eyes. That glint that he didn't recognize is back. He bites his tongue. It almost looks like...

Well, if he didn't know better... he would think that Leo is actually aroused. By Joe. By Joe's saves during the game. Joe nearly laughs. The idea is absurd.

But then Leo stares at Joe and trails a hand down his own chest, slowly.

Joe finds himself watching that hand.

It tightens the material across Leo's chest.

And suddenly Joe can see Leo's nipples through his shirt.

His mouth goes dry.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys probably thought I forgot about this one... I didn't!

 

Joe takes a stumbling step back, almost tripping over nothing on the smooth carpet in his shock. When he's certain he's not going to fall over, he frantically stammers, "I--I--you're not saying... Are you?"

He forces his eyes away from Leo's chest, away from those tempting little peaks, away from that slim, muscled body and up to Leo's face instead. But it's not much better, not safer seeing those dark eyes focused on his. And when he sees that intense stare directed back at him, Joe can't help but think that it's like being out on the pitch again--like time is speeding up and Leo's charging toward him, trying to outthink him, trying to score.

They're playing a different kind of game now.

Joe takes a deep breath, flustered beyond belief--*flattered* beyond belief if it's actually true--hands clenching into fists by his sides as he tries to focus. He can feel his fingernails pressing into his skin, knows he's leaving marks, and he deliberately relaxes his hands. "You're saying, that I--that *I*, make *you*... And you want to..." he chokes out before the words catch in his throat.

He waves a hand in the air, still unable to actually say it, coughing inelegantly in an attempt to clear his throat. But he can't say it. He can't.

It'll sound ridiculous. He knows it will.

He can't say that it's because of him that Leo's in the mood. He can't say that he got him horny--got him hot.

He can't say that Leo wants to fuck.

Or get fucked.

(Both are equally acceptable to Joe...But also equally ludicrous.)

And he certainly can't say any of that in Spanish. Even if it's true.

Except...it must be true. Because there's no other possible explanation for this is there? For Leo coming to his hotel room, alone, this late at night? Taking off his shoes and sweatshirt? Running his hand down his chest?

And then staring at Joe like this?

Leo laughs quietly, looking down at the ground. For half a second, Joe thinks Leo's been playing him, and he feels a surge of anger--at both Sergio and Leo for being so cruel. Especially on a night where Joe had the game of his life and still lost. He's ready to throw Leo out of the room, kick him out into the hallway without his shoes and slam the door in his face. He's already planning to give Sergio hell, ready to tell everyone he knows what an asshole Leo really is.

But then Leo looks up again.

And there's nothing mean in his gaze. Nothing malicious in his eyes.

At all.

If anything, Leo's eyes are sparkling as he tilts his head to the side and licks his lips. "Sí," he says, stepping back towards Joe. He reaches out slowly, hand slightly trembling, as if he half expects rejection, giving Joe time to back away again if it's really what Joe wants. When Joe doesn't, Leo's smile grows. He flattens both of his palms against Joe's bare chest, smoothing upwards. "Oh, sí," he whispers, lips pink and shiny and tempting.

Joe shuts his eyes, having to look away.

The adrenaline is running through his body, his chest heaving as Leo's hands move softly over his skin. It feels good, oh so good, and Joe knows he should put a stop to it, knows he's asking for trouble--because this is bloody Lionel Messi and this can't possibly go anywhere, not with who they are and who they play for-- but he can't do anything other than breathe. All he can do is stand there, frozen in place, panting.

He can hear Leo making appreciative murmurs under his breath, feel him moving those warm hands over his stomach, up his sides, skimming over his nipples, sending arousal fluttering down his spine.

And then the hands are gone for a moment and Leo's pressed up against him.

Joe holds back a moan.

Because it's not like earlier.

Not like after the game, after their hard fought battle, when they could put aside their teams and rivalries and become civil again. Because Joe and Leo had embraced, and not for the first time either--exchanging compliments and farewells, going through the motions, the routine, the usual ritual. They'd both been wired, both fired up--Leo, undoubtedly high on the win, despite his missed shots.

And Joe... Well Joe had been high from all the bloody saves he'd made.

And so they'd both teased each other. Leo murmuring something about going easy on Joe, and Joe replying that if that was easy, he didn't want to see Leo on a good day. It was a mixture of English and Spanish, probably sounding ridiculous and not making much sense, but it had been friendly. They'd smiled and hugged, both still wearing their uniforms, stinking of sweat and grass, before moving on to shake more hands.

But that was nothing like this.

Joe still can't open his eyes, can't believe what is happening. He half believes he's imagining things, wondering if maybe he fell asleep hours ago and is dreaming this entire thing.

But God, how he wants it--he desperately wants it.

It's been so long since someone's touched him this way... And it feels *so* good. Leo's cuddled up against him, sweet smelling body molded to his, soft hair tickling his chin. Joe can feel Leo's silky undershirt slide between their chests, and the thudding of his heartbeat underneath. Without meaning to, Joe's hands go to Leo's hips, instinctively squeezing, almost afraid Leo will suddenly decide this has all been a huge mistake.

Fingers start stroking Joe's jaw lightly, moving back and forth, catching on his stubble before sliding to interlock behind his neck. He can feel Leo's breath dancing across his skin, hot lips hovering over his throat.

"Sí?" Leo murmurs, questioningly, lips brushing the base of Joe's throat. "Yes?" he repeats, this time in English when Joe doesn't reply. It's muffled--Leo barely raising his face from where it's tucked against Joe's neck, nosing against the sensative skin. He still hasn't quite kissed Joe, his lips merely resting lightly as he waits for permission.

Joe keeps his eyes closed, heart racing, feverishly thinking, knowing that if he opens his eyes...

Fuck...

If he opens his bloody eyes and sees Leo's face, sees those dark eyes looking back at him one more time...

Leo makes a low mournful sound into Joe's throat, sounding disappointed at Joe's silence. Fingers loosen from where they're clutching the back of Joe's neck, before a hand moves to Joe's shoulder as if Leo's going to let go entirely and push away.

But Joe's eyes finally fly open.

Because that's not what he wants at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have too many wip and I can only promise that I haven't abandoned anything even if it seems like it sometimes!
> 
> And I know this one took awhile, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously the last thing I need to do is start another wip. In my defense, I wrote this awhile ago and it's just been sitting around while I focus on my other stories. I figure I may as well post it and see if there's any interest in it. I just really loved the pictures of Joe and Leo, and thought, maybe there's something there...


End file.
